


Moonbeam Magic

by tari_roo



Series: Cat!John [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Transformation, Crack, Gen, Hurt, Hurt John Sheppard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tari_roo/pseuds/tari_roo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cam catnapped Rodney's cat, for his own good. Really, he did. The cute little thing needed someone to look after it. Rodney won't mind. Not really. Sheppard sure as hell doesn't mind. Sequel to Moonbeams: Swing on a Star and Moonbeams in a Jar</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonbeam Magic

Title: Moonbeam Magic

Author: [](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/profile)[**tari_roo**](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/)

Fandoms: SGA

Disclaimer: I make no claim of owning or profiting from any of this. If I did SGA would still be on, _Destiny_ would be figment of some producer’s imagination and Sheppard would be shirtless more often. Life would be good.  Oh and Cam would have got his own team on Atlantis.

Rating: PG13

Summary: Cam catnapped Rodney's cat, for his own good. Really, he did. The cute little thing needed someone to look after it. Rodney won't mind. Not really. Sheppard sure as hell doesn't mind. Sequel to Moonbeams: Swing on a Star and Moonbeams in a Jar

Warnings: Spoilers for seasons 1 to 5 of SGA. References to SG1 seasons.

  
  


***sga*sga1*sga*sga1*sga*sga1*sga*sga1*sga*sga1*sga*sga1*sga*sga1*sga*sga1*sga*sga1**

Within the first twenty four hours Cam had decided to call the cat, Magic. The little guy was a perfect house guest. Lay out a little food (real food), stick on the television and he was set. No demanding to be petted. No meowing and pouncing on you. Every single memory Cam had of cats, most of them fond,  this cat met without all the niggling demands a domestic animal brought. Hell, Magic even used the toilet rather than a litter box.

There was no getting away from the fur though (and it was everywhere), and the cat was amenable to be stroked and petted, but otherwise, pretty much kept to himself, content to eat, sleep, and watch TV.

The title ‘Magic’ though was completely solidified on day two of Cam’s catnapping adventure.  It might also have been Cam’s last day on Earth.

There was an odd smell in his apartment when Cam walked in and he wondered for a second if Magic decided to use a pot plant as a litter box. But it wasn’t a cat smell, but rather something drier, mustier almost moldy. Sniffing, Cam tossed his keys onto the coffee table with a clatter and tsked for Magic.

A wailing yowl announced Magic, who was crouched by the closed bedroom door, tail waving like a wild snake, all of his fur bristling and on end. “What’s up? Corner something?”

Cam ambled over, curiosity piqued. Magic yowled some more and lashed out at Cam, claws extended. “Hey!” Mitchell hissed, hop skipping backwards out of reach. “Fine, fine, it’s yours. Just want to see…”

Reaching for the door handle, Cam felt Magic leap onto his leg, claws digging in deep but it was too late… the door took only a nudge and it swung open, slowly. Distracted by the black cat using his leg as a scratching post, Cam missed the movement inside his room and looked up at the sound of a paper dry hiss.

Something grey and dusty shuffled into view, and Mitchell blinked, then coughed as a fine light spray of wetness hit his face. A wave of paralysis washed over him, face going numb and chest tightening, his legs suddenly not his own. Wheezing, Cam scrambled backwards awkwardly, feet failing him, knees collapsing. He made it two steps and them stumbled and collapsed onto the soft carpet. Whether fortunately or not, he was still facing the doorway and had a perfect view of the wraith thin creature inching its way out of the room.

‘ _What?_ ’ Cam gasped only to himself. What the hell?

The creature was stick thin, literally. But instead of sticks, its skin looked more like paper, curling and twisted with age, grey with dust. Faceless, practically headless, it shuffled closer to him, impossibly doing so without muscles or tendons or… anything!

Unable to even blink, Cam struggled to panic, his heart beating dully. He was so screwed.

A soft weight landed on his chest and little Magic, a static filled ball of fur screamed at the creature, teeth bared, little pink tongue visible. The creature paused and rustled ominously. Cam tried to shift, move, anything in the respite the cat bought him, but nothing responded, his limbs wooden and false.

The creature made a shooing motion, and Magic lashed out, rising up on his hinds legs, forepaws outstretched, claws extended, slashing like mad. One of the claws caught a trailing piece of skin, bark, heck, whatever and Magic yelped in pain, paw smoking at the contact.

A dry hiss, almost laughter and the creature moved closer, closing the distance between them, pace like a sand dune on a windless day. Magic yowled again and struck again, batting at the dry cluster of fingers. The motion, a tiny cat paw was enough to knock the fingers aside, but the contact burned Magic again, his paw and fur smoking. Yelping, but not moving, the cat hissed and spat at the thing.

Cam tried to grit his teeth, tried to twitch, something, but all he could do was breathe, sluggishly. Fortunately he couldn’t even blink or otherwise he might have missed it. Magic’s hissing and spitting was producing a spray salvia and the creature seemed to flinch away. Not quite sure what it meant, and certain there was nothing he could do about it, Cam fought the paralysis, not wanting to die – not like this. Heck, not ever if he had a choice.

The creature shuffled nearer and Magic darted off his chest, self preservation no doubt kicking in. Unable to fault the little cat, Cam braced himself for whatever was to come. The creature turned an eyeless face towards him and rustled menacingly. _Oh, get on with it already_.

There was a clatter, like a water bowl being knocked and then moved. Cam recognized the sound from his childhood when his dog Bruce would get hungry and chase his bowl around the kitchen floor. The creature apparently had paper ears because it paused, face towards the kitchen. More noise and then something splashed Cam’s face, as Magic shoved his water bowl over and rolled it towards the creature.

Amazingly enough the creature shrieked, the sound like nails on a blackboard, but it didn’t, couldn’t move fast enough and a spray of water hit it. Smoking itself this time, the creature shuffled away, trying to avoid the spill of water on the floor. Magic crouched by Cam’s head, hissing and growling, tail batting Cam’s hair.

It took a moment for the creature to recover, its skin still steaming from the water, and in that moment, Cam regained some feeling in his hand. His fingers twitched, and Cam felt his heart pick up in response. Perhaps aware of how long its venom lasted, the creature seemed to gather itself and made a concerted effort to shuffle around the puddle of water. Little Magic growled, and feinted an attack, trying to scare it off.

Desperation and adrenalin surged through Mitchell, but all that materialized was more twitching in his hands and luckily now feet. He might have groaned in protest but between the ear splitting cat yowls and strange hisses from the creature, Cam couldn’t say for sure. Magic was feinting back and forth, spitting and screeching, but the creature was gaining momentum, sidestepping the puddle.

Abruptly, it stumbled or leapt and landed across Cam’s legs. Its weight was insubstantial but almost instantly Cam felt a sharp burning heat which he tried to escape, but to no avail. Magic disappeared in a blur of black and Cam struggled with his own inert body while the fire spread up his thighs. The creature was moving faster, gaining momentum through the smoke/steam rising from Cam’s legs.

Briefly Cam had visions of being back in a hospital bed with legs that didn’t work, but that nightmare dissolved as the pain increased as the strange thing pulled itself up his legs, its hands thicker and hotter. It hurt so bad that Cam managed to jerk a knee up but it only made it worse and now his cry was definitely audible – but all too late.

His heart was about to burst with pain and adrenalin and fear, screaming in his ears, thudding against his chest. A low keen rumbled in his throat and Mitchell feebly tugged at the creature, burning his fingers in the process. He blinked, long and slow, and as he opened his eyes, a streak of black darted across his vision. A skinny, soaking wet streak of black.

Sopping with water, Magic bowled into the creature, a powderpuff battering a piece of paper. The cat connected in a cloud of smoke, the thing’s thin shriek rising into the air. Magic’s momentum was enough to roll the fragile looking creature off Cam’s legs and Magic disappeared into the insubstantial folds of skin and arms. Cam struggled to move, hands flopping around like a fish out of water, legs useless painful lumps. Desperately Mitchell twisted to see what was happening with the battle.

Every cat owner knows the sound of paper being shredded, curtains ripping, the back of a couch being clawed. This sounded everything and nothing like that. Magic was clawing and shredding for all he was worth, all four paws flailing windmills. The mysterious thing was fighting back, and also trying to get away from the wet fur. Smoke, steam, and a rancid smell of burning wet fur and something else filled the air. Cam turned his head slowly, looking for something to help, a handy bottle of water, or beer or a convenient hose pipe… anything. Who knew how resilient or determined the creature was?

There was a crack, and a piercing yowl, and Mitchell hurt his neck twisting back to see what had happened. Magic was writhing on the carpet, back leg trailing, trying to get away from the hot press of the creature. Fortunately, the creature was regrouping or tired, as it just lay prone, idly twitching. With a monumental effort, surprising himself, Cam lurched to his knees, fumbling for Magic. He got a knuckleful of claws for his trouble, but managed to scoop the little cat out of the way. Half crawling, half collapsing, Cam grabbed his gym bag under the dining room table and pulled out what he hoped to high heaven was a full bottle of water.

Not full, but close enough.

Whirling, Cam threw the open bottle at the creature. It barely moved in response but the miasma of smoke that rose as the water hit it was suffocating. The wail was high pitched and pitiful and faded into nothingness. Shaking the bottle over the thing for good measure, Cam coughed and spluttered, waving his hand in front of his face, trying to clear the air.

“…gic?”

The smoke was rapidly becoming a real danger, so Cam stumbled over to the window and flung it open, leaning out to suck in deep breaths of clean air. Inhaling, he ducked back into the apartment and crashed back towards the cat. Magic wasn’t moving, a still black spot on the carpet. “Hey, hey, hey…” Cam fluttered anxiously over the prone form, uncertain if he should move the little guy.

A soft querulous ‘mhwar’ shattered his indecision and Mitchell cautiously lifted Magic, supporting his head and hips, cradling him against his chest. “I gotcha.” Blinking, his eyes watering from the smoke, Cam staggered into the bedroom, and the clearer air there. Coughing, he sat on the bed, precious bundle in his arms and peered at the clump of still damp black cat. Magic’s eyes were closed, but periodically small slits of green appeared, mouth barely open, his sharp white teeth showing. Cam could feel the tiny heart beating a mile a minute, a rapid staccato on his fingers. The sharp ‘burnt’ smell had followed them, or rather they were both exuding it. Cam surreptitiously fingered some of the obvious burns, and the fur cracked and disintegrated under the pressure. “Shit!”

Belatedly, Cam leant forward to check his legs. His jeans had borne the brunt of the heat, er, whatever, but the exposed skin was pink and blistering, and now that he was looking at them, hurt like hell. His hiss of pain was echoed by Magic’s murmur. The little guy was starting to shake, and shiver, and Cam cursed, “Shit, right. Call someone…”

It took the operator at the SGC a good five minutes to understand exactly what it was Cameron was talking about, because he may have been a little incoherent with worry, and his legs were on fire. Luckily though the Sergeant dispatched a ‘Be Prepared for Anything’ team within the first two sentences. Fortunately, the SGC had xeno-biologists on hand to look after a wounded cat, so both injured parties would be shipped to the Mountain. Reassured, Cam hung up and stared at his rescuer. Who would have figured on being rescued by a cat?

Magic was still twitching and occasionally rumbling in pain, but otherwise lay still in his arms, face pressed into Cam’s bicep. In the stillness of having to sit and wait, because now without the adrenalin and fear, Cam didn’t think he’d make it to the bathroom, recent events flashed across Mitchell’s mind. First thought was, ‘What on Earth was that thing and how did it get in his apartment?’ This was an important thought as it lead to all sorts of worries about aliens sneaking past their 304s and the SGC protocols, or ancient aliens waking up. It was a big concern for him and the SGC.

The second thought that quietly raised its hand and waved for attention though, was ‘Magic figured out it didn’t like water.’ In the grand scheme of worrying thoughts, this thought was hardly in the top ten. But the more attention Cam paid to thought two, the more worried he became.

Magic had demonstrated some intelligence i.e. interest in sports, sure but this… this was reasoning and logic. Figuring out a problem and leaping into a handy source of water, i.e. the toilet to save Cam’s life. And standing his ground to fight.

With worry gnawing on his guts, Cameron stared down at the fragile body in his arms and felt the worry evaporate in an instant. Maybe, he was being sentimental and naïve, but the cat had saved his life, not put him in peril. A voice that sounded like Jack O’Neill whispered that maybe it was an elaborate plot to gain Cam’s trust and get inside the SGC. And that was still a possibility. What better disguise than a small black, helpless cat? That loved beer and watching football.

Torn now, wanting to think the best of this little strange cat that probably wasn’t a cat, but too experienced and cynical to blindly hope for the best, Cam sighed. He had seen some pretty weird crap out there in the galaxy that he’d never been able to imagine. An alien entity using a cat to infiltrate earth was not such a bizarre idea. And there was some pretty weird crap going on around SGC staff. The lizard lady that attacked Rodney. This paper mummy with no face that went after him. And the cat was there both times.

Depressed by where his thoughts had led him, Mitchell gently stroked the top of Magic’s head with his thumb, the only part that seemed undamaged. Bright green eyes opened at the touch and Magic looked at him like he knew exactly what Cam was thinking. A little sigh shuddered through the cat and he closed his eyes, unmoving but still breathing.

“Shit, Magic. What am I going to do?”

*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*

John hurt. Crashing your helicopter in the Afghan desert hurt. Enduring special forces training hurt. Hell, walking away from your family hurt. But he had never hurt this bad in his life. Maybe it was because he had never been this small before and had less mass to absorb the impact, but either way, he hurt. Deep and urgent.

Reality was swimming in and out of focus, and John knew he was safe, being held, cocooned by something. Snippets of the fight broke across his vision periodically , interspersed with Cameron’s worried face hovering just out of sight. Through the pain, John recognized the signs of someone thinking – someone worrying. He wasn’t so out of it to figure out he was in trouble, both from the injuries but also because Mitchell would be clued in to his ‘not catness’. Frankly though, Sheppard didn’t care. Even if it meant enduring a few days of being poked and prodded, if Cam’s weird SGC place figured out how to turn him back into a human, he’d take it. This being a cat business was getting old, fast.

If he lived long enough.

Cam smelt awful. Rank and damp, with an overlaying rancid stench of the monster. Hidden beneath all that stench was Cam’s own scent, a hardy, woody, earthy smell. McKay was spicy, and metallic. Sharp enough to cut. Normally, Sheppard liked both smells, whereas right now he stank. He was resisting the feline urge to groom, bathe himself because a) it would hurt too much and b) there was no way he was licking that monster stench off his hair.

Fur. Hair. Whatever.

A softer, warmer, cleaner smell wafted over him and John peeled his eyes open, wondering what had changed. Large blue eyes framed by a wide, friendly face loomed over him, inches from his muzzle. Rather than flinch away, John blinked, long and lazy, trying to think through the pain.

“Maybe put him down on the bed, Colonel.”

John though had other ideas. Moving would hurt. Hurt more than anything else. He flexed his claws, once, twice, hoping Cam would take the hint.

“Yeoch. Is he growling?”

“Like a tiger. Kay, let’s try something else.”

Sheppard braced himself for whatever ‘something else’ was, digging his claws into Cameron’s forearm. He blinked and was moving, plastic walls around him, soft, deliciously soft blankets beneath him. ‘Huh,’ John thought. ‘Musta passed out.’

But all the jostling and motion didn’t help his head or the pain raging through him, so John let it all take him back under, lost in the blackness of space and a flat blacktop of the open road. Strange dreams about hunting pursued him, both as the hunter and the pursued. Glimpses of enemies through his gun sights and the sensation of sinking claws and teeth into a jugular. Just once he was flying, the roar of rotors overhead, but the view unobstructed by the shell of a chopper, the sky opening from blue into the black of space. More often though John dreamt of running, as a man and a cat. Just flat out running, fast and powerful, long legs eating up the terrain. He wasn’t going anywhere, wasn’t chasing or being pursued. Just running.

It felt all consuming.

It took John awhile to realize he was awake. The heavy lassitude of anesthesia clung to his bones, pinning him to downy bedding, but Sheppard sure as hell didn’t care. Reality didn’t come into focus so much as allow him to become aware of it. Wave a little flag and say it was ready to be noticed now, thank you very much.

Reality was a cage.

A nice cage, clean, airy, thin metal bars evenly spaced as a roof and walls. But still a cage.

A little more worrying was the lab. He was in a cage, in a lab.

Sheppard’s heart rate spiked minutely, before he could gather himself. Perhaps it was the sound of his heart that brought all the other sounds in the immediate area to his attention. The blip and whir of machines in the lab, the hum of a computer. The loud argument going on outside the door.

“What fool names a cat Magic? Andrew Lloyd Weber, that’s who!”

“Oh yeah, and what kind of crap name is Cat? Real original!”

“It’s accurate!”

John smiled, recognizing both voices – it was hard not too considering the decibel they were reaching and he was pleased that at least these two people were close by, and arguing. Whatever lay in store for him, it was doubtful either would agree with the course favoured by the other, so… maybe there was a little hope.

Cameron Mitchell’s drawl oozed under the door, dripping with disdain, “Yeah… as accurate as WHNIWID? We Have No Idea What It Does.”

“Oh, oh,” McKay squeaked in outrage, “I’m not the one who came up with DHD, or GDO  or FRED… you military types just love your acronyms.”

“At least they make sense!”

“The military making sense! Ha, that’s an oxymoron, just like military intelligence!”

There was glass panel in the door, but John was at the wrong angle to actually see anything but there was motion at the panel, probably Rodney gesticulating in grand arias. “You kidnapped my cat!” Rodney sounded positively livid, and moderately hurt. Cameron however sounded completely unapologetic. “I took him into protective custody."

And now Rodney's 'hurt' morphed into full on outraged denial with mixed anger, "Wha… I,… he tried to kill me!"

"No he didn’t. And he called 911, right?" John winced at the accusation and part reminder as to why he was in this predicament. Not entirely his fault after all, as Rodney had the instincts of a mouse but the reflexes of a moose.

"Ha, so now I’m not crazy!" Rodney cried and there was a definite motion of poking, probably finger to chest.

"Hey, he saved my life too!" Cameron exclaimed, and John couldn't help the soft purr of pride at having achieved that while he was the size of well… a small black cat (for the second time). Rodney however was not done, not by any means, judging by the sound of the hysteria in his voice as he yelled, “Or he is in league with those weird aliens, monsters, whatever and its all part of his diabolical plan to take over the world. Don’t look at me like that!”

Oh dear. Sheppard wilted a little at that last statement. Trust Rodney to think the worse, but considering just ‘where’ he was that explanation slash fear slash theory was viable for these folks. Sheppard really didn’t want to have to ‘prove’ he wasn’t some alien or creature from the deep black of space. Or something he couldn’t think of right now. Whatever government agency or military operation Mitchell and McKay worked for, it sounded serious and very hush hush.

Mitchell’s calm, reasonable tones were full of certainty, “The surgery proved he’s all cat.”

Thank goodness, John sighed, and stretched a little, scanning his smaller frame. It had taken some getting used to but eventually this compact, four legged body had felt ‘right’.  Eventually. But Sheppard still didn’t want to stay a cat forever. Definitely not forever.  It took a second, but it sank in. His leg wasn’t hurting. Sheppard remembered the excruciating pain burning through his leg. But now, it was ok.

Rodney’s strident tones derailed his train of thought, “Biologically! Who’s to say that there isn’t an alien entity borrowing or sharing his mind!”

“A cat goual’d?” John wasn’t too sure what a goual’d was, but it sounded ominous and well, bad news for him. But Cameron sounded skeptical rather than concerned, like Rodney was walking on the ‘far side’ of reality, a stretched bordering science fiction reality, but still reality.

“It’s possible!”

Sheppard’s tail started twitching, betraying his anxiety. It wasn’t like he could do anything about the situation, let alone ‘prove’ he was just a human turned into a cat and not part of a galactic conspiracy to turn Rodney bald. Although right now, he might just join such a conspiracy if McKay was so deadest on thinking he was out to get them, him.

Mitchell sounded certain as he exclaimed, “Anything is possible, but there was nothing on the scan, no parasite, no weird readings, nothing.”

Never one to give up, McKay groaned, “He was unconscious!”

“I wish I was unconscious!”

“That can be arranged.”

“Boys, knock it off.”

Sheppard’s ears perked up as the new voice spoke. Samantha Carter. She liked him, and well… he liked her. Anyone who could make Rodney blush, splutter and act like an ass all in one go was alright in his book. She was pretty hot too. For a colonel. Carter’s voice rose as she opened the door and all three of them entered the lab and she said firmly, “Behave or you’re both out.” Her gaze though was directed more at Rodney who glowered at her.

Before anyone else could speak, argue or decry their innocence, Sam turned her attention to John and smiled, “Oh good, you’re awake.”

That sounded promising and she certainly didn’t seem ready to slice him open, so Sheppard tried to calm the rise of nerves as they drew closer to the cage. Carter waved Rodney and Cameron off, and approached the cage, keeping a comfortable distance. She smiled again and asked, “So, are you up for a little conversation?”

John, who most definitely was – especially if the conversation involved actually speaking, nodded and meowed in response.

***sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1**

Rodney resisted the urge to knock Sam aside and pick up Cat. The little guy was slow to move out of the cage, like he, it, he was hurting. Or play-acting. Or nervous.

Rodney was nervous.

There was still some serious debate going on at the SGC about Cat. More than half the science staff thought Rodney was insane. But that wasn’t unusual. But this latest evidence, his theory that his cat had tried to kill him had given certain former-Soviet block scientists all the proof they needed. With Captain Flyboy now on the ‘the cat’s smart’ band wagon, a few more people (i.e. Sam) were taking him seriously.

General O’Neill had even taken an interest, thankfully brief. But the General had ignored Rodney’s suggestion that ‘he’, the best qualified and intelligent scientist, be in charge of determining the nature of Cat’s oddity, or possession or demonisation or who the hell knew.

Right now though, Rodney wanted to just pick the poor bedraggled thing up and cuddle it.

It had definitely evil mind powers, an inherent ‘love me’ vibe. McKay was determined to resist it!

The lab was secure and the doors could not be opened from the inside and there was no wi-fi, hardline connections or power points in the room itself. Sam was no fool, even if she was ‘humouring’ him and Mitchell right now. McKay wasn’t certain if Sam was entirely convinced but at least she’d stopped laughing at him.

Vala’s goual’d healing device had saved Cat’s life, but not his fur, and as the cat padded out onto the hard surface of the counter, Rodney winced at the bald patches and patchy fur. Cat did not look like a diabolical alien master mind, but perhaps that was the point. Sometimes Rodney wished he could put his paranoid self on pause, but life at the SGC made that impossible.

Sam was laying out a series of cards. The alphabet – one letter per card. A few pictures. Homey stuff a cat would be familiar with and more lateral things like common symbols for gender, information etc. And she threw in a few hieroglyphic characters, the Colchacian symbols for death and destruction that looked a lot like two hearts merging, and Neobassi letters that resembled Cyrillic. No maths, no scientific symbols.

Cat watched her with his usual intensity, eyes tracking her movements, tail flicking.

Once she was done, Sam paused, sighed and smiled nervously at the cat.”Well, this is by far the weirdest thing I’ve done this month. No use wasting time, right? Not with these two practically vibrating with nerves.”

“Hey!”

Rodney bit his lip, and clenched his hands into fists. Mitchell, the moron, was going to casual now that Sam had pointed out his anxiety and he was leaning on the counter on the other side of Carter. Peering at her clipboard, maybe looking for some sanity, Sam sighed, “Ok, let’s go with something simple. What’s your name?”

Growling a little, McKay shared a look with Cameron. It wasn’t enough that Sam thought the Cat vs Magic argument was ridiculous, now she wanted the cat to resolve it himself. Mitchell, the coward, shrugged.

Cat though had stared at her for a moment and was now pulling out a variety of letters from the pile in front of him. He carefully arranged them in a fairly straight line. Sam noted the whole process with restrained excitement. McKay felt himself bobbing on his heels but couldn’t stop himself. The letters so far did not spell Cat.

Finally the name that took shape was:

JON SHEPARD

***sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1*sga*sg1**

Rodney was yelling at Sam, Bill Lee and whoever else was prepared to listen. That wasn’t a lot of people, and everyone but Bill was ignoring him. It was however, very distracting.

“I told you, didn’t I? I told you and no one listened to me!”

“Dr McKay…”

Mitchell tried to drown out the sounds, hands pressed over his ears as he stared at the file in front of him. The report was six months old, roughly, and was as detailed as a report could be where the exact cause of the ‘incident’ was unknown. The officer who had compiled the report, a Colonel Jones had recommend further investigation, but if anything had come of it, there had been no further reports filed. Maybe the NID had stepped in after all.

“It completely ties up. A massive energy reading – ANCIENT energy – and I’m completely ignored!”

“Well, we…” Bill stammered.

Scrolling further down the screen, Mitchell paused on the after action report. There was been several casualties, luckily only one fatality. But the real interesting name was: Major John Sheppard. Severely injured. Status: Coma. Carter was calling into Air Command to find out if Major Sheppard had been transferred Stateside yet, or if he was still in Germany. Cameron though clicked on the Major’s service file and snorted. Most of it was classified, bar the Major’s recent activity in Afghanistan, recent as of six months ago. Test pilot. AFSOC. Plenty of recommendations, even if the events they referred to were vague.

“Right smack in the middle of a warzone and what does the SGC do? Send in a team? Beam in experts on Ancient tech? No, no, they send Daniel Jackson.”

“It lasted barely a mili-second, Rodney. Half that. It could have been an anomaly, or faulty reading, or…”

“But it wasn’t!”

Cameron had to give McKay that. By now the big wigs in the IOD and SGC should know that even a microsecond reading of what might have been a strange energy reading in the middle of Khandahar would probably be something to investigate. But Daniel had come back sunburned and frustrated. No other readings. No other signs of Ancient facilities, technology or ruins. But it was very difficult to do a proper search since even now, exploring the hills and mountains of the area was too dangerous.  Daniel was offworld so they’d have to wait to brief him on recent events, but how could he have known that one explosion halfway around the world would have this end result.

“And what are the odds of this Major Sheppard being transported into the body of a cat, in Colorado Springs, huh huh? Astronomical!”

Magic, er Major Sheppard was still inside Dr Peter’s lab, resting. He’d answered every question posed to him, as best he could with the tools Sam gave him. Cameron didn’t quite know what to think about having shared his home and life with a strange Air Force Officer, and this was probably why McKay was all in a flutter. Strange secretive alien just looking for a place to hide was one thing, but another human being turned into a cat? Well.

“Now who’s crazy, Zelenka!”

Sam slipped back into the room and took the chair next to Cameron. She smiled at him and said, “Major Sheppard’s body is stateside. Arrived three months ago. I’ve asked them to send him here.”

Mitchell nodded, and said, “And then?”

Shrugging, Sam grinned, “Figure out how to get Sheppard’s mind, consciousness back inside his body, I suppose.”

Glancing at the screen at the picture of Major Sheppard, Cameron laughed, “Is it weird that I’m kinda sad to lose Magic?”

Sam slugged him in the arm and he winced, rubbing his bicep, “Ouch.”

“Put yourself in the Major’s shoes, Cam. Come on!”

Cam shrugged sheepishly, “I know, I know. It’s ridiculous. But he’s an awfully cute cat.”

Carter nodded, “Sure, and he’s not so bad looking  as a human either.”

“We have to demand a full expedition to Khandahar to investigate immediately!” Rodney was still in full voice, striding up and down, waving his hands and getting red in the face.

Cameron couldn’t help himself and hissed to Carter softly, “I don’t know about you, but I’d pay good money to see Rodney turned into a cat.”

“Hush,” Carter whispered, her smile wide, “With our luck Rodney would get turned into something annoying or deadly – like a spider or fly.”

“A human sized fly!”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. McKay glared at them and glowered in silence.

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John snuggled down into his bed, and sighed contentedly. They hadn’t tried to put him back in the cage, even if they had left him in the locked lab. But Sam and Mitchell had brought him a bowl of coffee and a plate of tuna mayonnaise, with sliced pickles. Life was looking up.

He had no idea if anything he had told them would be of use or if they even believed him, but at least he’d finally told someone. McKay had got real quiet as he spelled out his answers, like the reality of Sheppard being intelligent and well human trapped inside a feline body wasn’t quite what he was expecting.

The last thing John remembered before waking up as a cat in a dirty alley in Colorado Springs was taking off in his Apache either heading out on a mission or a recon. And now, people knew. People who were kinda used to this stuff, judging by the bits and pieces he’d heard over the last little while.

Things were certainly looking up.

Bar the weirdass monsters, still being a cat and well… being in a top secret government facility.

But still up.

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Fin

AN: Yes, another Cat!John installment. Will there be more? I can comfortably say that there will be, as I have a good idea where to go with this now. When will there be more? Well, that I am not too sure on. I’ll have to check with Magic, I mean Cat :)

  
  



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